Grey Lines
by CapAleran2
Summary: Recruited by Duncan, Bronwyn is thrust into camaraderie alongside Alistair and another female Warden. Together the Warden begin to rebuild Fereldan from the aftermath of the Fifth Blight, but deceit lies in wait within the Grey Warden's own. Lines cross and soon what has been black and white quickly turns grey. Darkspawn are not the only things they have to worry about. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**AN** : This is another one I've had half way written, but never got around to finishing. It desperately needs editing, or rewritten. I'll update it soon, but my Gajeel story will take priority over this one. Might wanna check that one out if you haven't already. :-}

-I don't own any pictures used

-I don't own Dragon Age

-Rated T for violence and some language

* * *

Grey Lines

Chapter 1

By CapAleran2

The chestnut took a slight misstep, jarring Bronwyn from her thoughts. She'd been so enthralled with excitement for the long road between the current moment and their destination that she hadn't realized it suddenly was raining. The cold water had already begun to drench her as she fumbled with the hood of her cloak. Hoping neither of the men noticed, she risked a peek in their direction in front of her.

Duncan sat looking rigid atop his bay mount. His form blocked by the massive oak shield strapped across his back. The round thing was big, though Duncan had easily handled it with seemingly no effort at all. Alistair was slouched over, resting his arm on the saddle width pommel. The reins looped down between the black's low hanging head and its deep chest. The differences between the two Wardens ahead of her were quite obvious. There was something familiar about it though. It comforted Bronwyn, especially when she thought of being homesick

Mud began to form in the dips and wheel ruts, forcing the horses to choose where they place their hooves more carefully. She knew from past experiences that horses were sure-footed, but mud could be dangerous. She shuttered.

"This rain can stop at any moment," Alistair calmly stated in a dull, sarcastic monotone. His hood covered his head and shoulders, but Bronwyn could see that he wasn't as dry as he appeared. "It's not as warm as it could be." He turned his head to glance at Bronwyn.

She immediately dropped her eyes and focused on the space between her horse's ears. Her cheeks started tingling. She mentally chided herself. She had let her mind wonder from the task at hand to stare. She just wanted to see everything. Experinces all the new faces of being a Grey Warden. She was just excited.

Her nineteenth birthday was a few months ago. Her father had given her the horse beneath her, as he knew she would be leaving. Apparently, Duncan had come to Balric a year in advance to consider her for recruitment. It's a high honor to be chosen, and to be chosen one would have to be thoroughly watched for an indefinite span of time. Essentially spied on until the characteristics the Grey Warden look for rise to the surface. Or don't appear at all.

Mere weeks before her birthday, a raid of rogue Darkspawn that survived the Blight attacked the village connecting to her family's fortress, absently killing farmers as they plucked crop from the fields just yards away from housing. Her father had been away on business, so her brother had ordered the charge against them. Unbeknownst to him, Bronwyn had desguised herself to ride out to the fight. From his camp at the edge of the adjacent forest, Duncan let the scene play out before he finally intervened and fought his way to protect her blind spots. From what he witnessed, it confirmed his instinct concerning the High Lord's youngest.

She was indeed Grey Warden material.

Just two months after that, Duncan had introduced her to the Grey Warden. Her and two other men had been intiated into the Joining. The man before her made it through. The man before him had not. She had drank the whole cup, though from the first breath and taste of it, it had taken effort. She never wanted to taste the taint again, the vile liquid. The memory of that day would never leave her.

Especially when she woke from passing out.

 _Her eyes opened to view a large room that looked like it belonged in a castle. She looked around, her pupils adjusting to more light. Alistair sat by the bay window with an open book in his hand. "So she wakes," he said, light and airy. "You passed out and had been for some time. Glad to see you're up." He smiled, closing the book and stood._

 _"That was awful." Bronwyn replied. She sat up in the bed, touching her throat. Not only did it taste unimaginable, but the pain had been unbearable. Now it only felt like she had a sore throat._

 _"Boy, isn't that the truth." He laughed and set the book on the bedside table. "The good thing at least. is that you'll never have to intentionally drink it again." His eyes were light, the the laugh lines around them and his mouth made him look a little older than he really was. Bronwyn liked to see him smile. It made her smile. Smiling felt good._

Bronwyn's mind released the memory of recent events and lifted the reins and moved the horse over to the right to line up behind Alistair, allowing a small cart to pass the other way. A small grey pony pulled the cart along. An old man led the pony while his grandchildren -Bronwyn assuemed- sat in the back. They shared a cloak, being small enough to fit.

When the parties met in the middle, Duncan nodded to the old man and in turn, Alistair. When they saw the Wardens they pointed, whispering to themselves and watched the three advance down the road. Bronwyn briefly smiled at the small boys. No doubt they'd have an interesting event to tell others when they arrived at their desination.

"Well they'll have some tale to tell." Alistair straightened. He peered behind, using his gloved hand to move the side of the hood.

"Yes... It's a little odd that we haven't met others yet. This is a well traveled road." Duncan's gaze scanned the horizon. He expertly watched for unusual movements, ears trained to hear sounds that gaive away positions.

"Well, it _is_ raining. And it's almost twilight. All are probably snug at home. I'd sure like to be under a roof."

"How much further do we have?" Bronwyn asked. She tried to keep her voice from shaking. The rains were a welcome to the short dry spell, but it was cold. She was also tired of sitting in the hard saddle. There was only so much space for her butt. She wouldn't even attempt to imagine what it was like for the others.

There was no fooling Duncan. He chuckled. "Not much further. There is a small town in the coming valley with a large inn. We can have supper in the commons area. By the fire." He added.

 _Good_. Bronwyn thought. She hadn't slept in twenty-four hours, though she was surprised she'd lasted this long without falling from the saddle. "I don't know how you two can function with the cold seeping into your bones..." Her voice cracked. _Bolacs._

Alistair glanced at her, his eyes sparkling with the grin that undoubtedly held back his own chuckle.

The town was indeed small, only the essential shops. The rest was housing and barns. The people relied completely on themselves and the traders who ventured through. Duncan waved to a man he spotted walking into the inn. Light spilled out of the building. Bronwyn smelled the faint scent of bacon cooking over a fire. Smoke billowed from the tops of the building through the two chimineys the protruded through the clay roofing.

Duncan led them to the stables, where they dismounted and gathered their belongings. Alistair took their saddles and stored them on racks inside the barn. He returned just as Duncan dropped the appropriate coin into the stable manager's hand. He smiled and turned to his companions, sighing and clasped his hands together. "Now that that's settled, let's get some food."

As they made their way to the inn, Bronwyn's stomach released an audible growl. Her cheeks began to tingle, knowing she'd be embarrassed. All she wanted was to be next to the fire with a large bowl of food and a bed so she could finally rest her eyes. They burned a little. She was sure she'd have bags under her eyes as well.

There were many people in the inn's common place. Men sat around tables, drinking and laughing. A few women carried trays of food to various tables, setting the contents in front of eager mouths. A large fireplace stood at one end of the room, another at the opposite. Wild game heads were mounted on the walls, adding to the many windows. Some children gathered together in front an old woman in the back room. Maybe to tell them a story. Or maybe to get them out of their parents hair for a short time. Either way, Bronwyn thought it was nice.

They stopped at the front desk. There was no one there. Duncan glanced back at the two. Alistair shrugged.

It took a moment before a short man appeared. He looked stretched thin and busy, but he took time to smile. "Hello to you all. What can I do for you? A room?"

"Two, please."

The inn keeper checked the papers pinned to the desk with a glance and frowned. "I, I'm sorry, sir. We are extremely busy, as you can see. But you are lucky; I can put you down for the last one, upstairs on the left."

Duncan didn't miss a beat. "That's fine. It's just for the night." It looked like the three of them will just have to make do.

"Right. Well the kitchen is still open. Looks like it will for a while now, with everyone coming in on this fine night. Make yourselves comfortable."

While Duncan paid the man, Alistair touched Bronwyn's arm and motioned to the empty tables. They claimed a small one and pulled it closer to the fire. He flagged a serving wench for some food before taking off his grey cloak and sitting down. Bronwyn took off her own and set it over her chair, allowing the fire to attempt to dry it. She sat down and shivered as the heat from the fireplace started to warm her.

A server appeared and placed a plate of fresh rolls between them. They looked delicious. "There you are, the rest will be comin'. What'll you have as drink?"

Elbows on the table with his fists by his mouth, Alistair glanced up, "Two pints of ale, and..." he looked at Bronwyn.

"Do you have tea?" She assumed an inn wouldn't have tea; it was a luxury that only the wealthy could afford. But at least she would try. Alistair's mouth twitched and looked back to the server.

"Um, not usually. But I'll see what I can do." And then she was off.

"Tea. You asked for tea." Alistair said, amazed. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair to look at her, grinning.

She took a bite of the roll in her hand and sat oblivious in his gaze. "What?"

He let out the chuckle he'd been keeping locked behind his grin. "You're a Grey Warden now, Bron. I don't think they drink tea."

"Well, this one does."

Duncan appeared and sat down beside Alistair, not bothering to take off his cloak. "I took our packs to the room. It's large enough for the three of us. And I had an extra cot brought up."

"I got you a pint coming."

"Ah, good." Duncan took a roll. "The inn keeper informed me that it usually dies down a few hours after sundown. It will be quiet later."

Bronwyn had hardly noticed the noise, but all at once it grew seemingly loud. The children had come out of the room and were milling about to their parents. She guessed they would be the first ones to leave since they had small children. They wouldn't want to let the small ones see drunkards who wander in from the tavern across the street for a meal.

"Tomorrow after breakfast we'll get a move on," Duncan continued. "And we should arrive there sometime in the afternoon."

"Arrive where?" Bronwyn asked.

"A village we now use as a central base for Grey Warden. Though we have no home, it is a good place to hone skills and relax without the need to be vigilant. It has a long way to go, but it's better than nothing."

The serving wench came up with their drinks and plates. The plates were filled with chunks of potatoe, carrots, and a thick slab of beef. She set down another plate of rolls and set down the drinks. She addressed Bronwyn. "One of the cooks had a crate of herbs that could be used to make other sorts of drinks, but he made a dark brew for you."

"Thank you." Bronwyn sipped the drink. It tasted like the tea she had at the castle. Only it was a little sweeter. "It's very good."

The woman smiled. "I told him he should make it more often."

Alistair's grin widened when Duncan snorted after the server left. He couldn't believe his eyes. "You ordered _tea_?"

"What's wrong with that?" Bronwyn said, scowling at the two of them.

"Have you never had ale before? Mead?"

She shook her head. If she was honest with herself, she was scared to try it. Her older brothers loved it but experience with them told her that if too much is ingested -depending on the make- it made a person act like a fool.

Alistair slid his pint in her direction. "Got to try it sometime."

"Why are you smiling?" She couldn't help but be a little suspicious from the way he asked the eariler question. He shook his head, still smiling, and held the glass on the table in front her of plate. Duncan shovled a potato into his mouth as he watched.

She took it from his hand. It smelled stale and faintly of piss. Why people choose to drink this was beyond her. She sipped and immediately regreted it. Her face contorted as she swallowed the liquid. Alistair leaned back in a small laugh while Duncan tried not to choke on his pint.

"That's terrible! Why do you drink that?" She watched Alistair laugh. Her face couldn't hold the scowl and she laughed as well.

"It's definitely an aquired taste. But it's better than tea."

Later that evening after they had finished their meal and watched a few of the townsmen arm wrestle to settle debts, they went up to their room. Most of the people had already went home or gone to their respective rooms for the night. Duncan opened their door and stepped aside to let the others through, then closed the door and locked it.

Their packs sat in the corner by the window and small table. On it an oil lamp was lit, giving off a large amount of light. A chair sat in the corner by the door. The bed was large enough for two people, but there were two cots set up on either side. Duncan sat in the chair and started to take off his boots. Dried mud chipped off onto the wood flooring. "I'll sleep on a cot." He said.

"Right," Alistair sat on the cot on the window side of the bed. He leaned all the way back and closed his eyes. "I haven't been able to do this without a watch in a long time."

Bronwyn's muscles ached. Her feet felt like they throbbed in her boots. They were her brothers, and a little too narrow. She hoped there would be a chance to buy or trade for new ones that fit her. She looked over to her pack. The sword she carried was also her brothers. It was a clean cut short sword, with a thick hilt that went over the scabbard when sheathed. If for some reason she'd have to carry another one other than this, she would save it for herself as a keepsake.

"I'm sorry we could not have gotten another room. But we'd best make do." Duncan said casually. He looked at her before he sat down on his cot. She knew he was talking about privacy. She was technically a lady forced to sleep in the company of two strange men. Under other circumstances she would have been opposed to the idea, having been brought up in a castle all but a princess, but seeing as she was now a Warden... She'd have to get used to it.

At least they were indoors.

Duncan lay on his cot facing the wall. He had set his pack by him as security. Seeing that Alistair hadn't moved from where he laid, Bronwyn went to douse the lamp. Alistair awoke at her steps. "Didn't expect to dose off that fast." He gave a growl that was supposed to be a chuckle and removed his shirt to use as a pillow, his cloak as a blanket.

She stared at him, marveling at his muscle tone. It looked as if he had no amount of fat on his body. She noticed a leather cord haning around his neck. The leather wrapped around the top of a long tooth. It had to have been from a rather large animal to have one that long. "I have two blankets if you want one." Bronwyn offered before turning the knob on the lamp.

"No, no, it's ok. I have my trusty cover." He grinned as he held up the cloth, then spread the cloak over himself.

The light extinguished and the night enveloped the room. When he didn't move, she took off all the unnessary items on her person down to her tunic and trousers and unpinned her braid from its bun and crawled under the bed's wool blanket. Her body instantly relaxed under the warmth. The tension in achy muscles would eventually unkink themselves. But the day would bring even more aches.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN** : This is another one I've had half way written, but never got around to finishing. It desperately needs editing, or rewritten. I'll update it soon, but my Gajeel story will take priority over this one. Might wanna check that one out if you haven't already. :-}

-I don't own any pictures used

-I don't own Dragon Age

-Rated T for violence and some language

* * *

Chapter 2

"Shouldn't we dismount if we're gonna go up that?" Bronwyn squinted up the steep rocky hill. She couldn't find a clear path; various sized boulders jutted out of the slanting ground in odd intervals. At the bottom was dense brush. The horses wouldn't be able to keep their balance while climbing if they rode.

Alistair nodded and moved his black gelding to the right."Yes, but, were not going up."

Puzzled, Bronwyn watched him ride down the length of the brush. He stopped and dismounted, dragging large sections of brush out of the way. It covered a tunnel, just tall enough for a horse, but wide enough for a large wagon. He presented it with enthusiasm, one hand on his hip, the other extending towards it with a big smile on his face.

Duncan dismounted and patted the horse's neck, turning to Bronwyn. "Welcome to the Warden Den." He went on ahead of his horse, leading it into the dark hole.

 _Very clever_ , Bronwyn thought, amused. She would have never thought to make a secret entrance. It would make a fast escape if the village was attacked. She hoped she'd learn tricks and tactics like that when she started lessons. Glancing at Alistair as she walked past into the hole, he flashed her the same kind of smile he gave her when she first woke from the Joining.

It sent a shiver down her arms and spine. It made her stomach jolt.

He handed her the reins of his horse so he could replace the brush over the tunnel entrance. She walked a ways into the tunnel, the two horses in tow, before stopping to wait. The sunlight slowly faded as the thick tangle of vegetation blocked it from view. From the outside, it would appear to be immovable, an ordinary natural occurance of plants.

They came out the other side meeting Duncan who had waited before continuing onto the village. Large trees stood with steps leading up to a platform. A sentry stood on each one, holding a bow with quiver full of arrows strapped to their backs. Bronwyn had seen the trees tower over the other side but the foilage had hidden them.

The one closest to them waved. "Oy! Saw you come in. Glad to have you back!"

Duncan nodded and waved back then started down the path. The horses' ears pricked forward and their heads came up, alert and intent on the path ahead. Alistair's black nickered. They rounded a turn and on the other side of trees was a long wall erected of stone and wood. A large gate was swung open and two guards paced back and forth on the walkway above. Sheep and a few cattle freely grazed on land outside the walls. It seemed very peaceful, a safe haven.

Bronwyn took it all in with a wide grin. This was nothing like she had expected. She was a Grey Warden. And could hardly contain her excitement. It felt like a new world, a frest start. Now she could learn battle tactics and go through actual combat training that her father never before allowed. She was thankful that she had been taught how to ride, but she had to teach herself how to spar from watching her brother's training excerises with the rest of the men under his command.

"You coming, or are you just going to stand there til the next Blight?" Alistair teased, his voice just as light and airy has it had been before. HIs smile returned to his face and he waited for her to catch up.

"This is fantastic. It's bigger than I imagined," she said breathless from her jog up to him.

"This is a work in progress, really, but it will do until it's complete." He looked up to the gates as they passed under them. He breathed in deep and let out a sigh and then looked at her. "It's home."

Bronwyn could feel what he felt as she looked around the inside of the walls. Houses lined the inside of the walls, allowing for the occasional stairs that led to the tops of the walls. The blacksmith and armory, the supplyhouse and kitchens were dotted about, and the stables was located in the back with corrals for the horses to stretch their legs. Mabari hounds wandered, though never too far from the Hound's Keeper.

A few practice areas had Warden's honing their skills with swords and archery. The thud from the arrows hitting the targets was a familiar sound. It reminded her of her childhood home. She completely understood Alistair's attachment to the place.

"Oh, but it is." She breathed and smiled.

They took their horses to the stables, where they found Duncan talking to another. He noticed Bronwyn and Alistair, motioning for them. "This is our newest Warden, Bronwyn," he placed his hand on her shoulder while addressing the other man. "Her joining was just last month."

The man wore chainmail and a thick leather belt latched in the middle with a scabbard at his side. His black hair was tied back and his beard stuck off his jaw. "I'm Neal. I'm in charge of the stables." He turned to Alistair. "Alistair, good to have you back as well. It's been a long time."

Alistair briefly hesitated and fingered with the gloves in his hand. "It's, it's good to be back, thank you."

While Neal spoke to Duncan, Bronwyn watched Alistair from the corner of her eye. He had seemed uncomfortable at the stablemaster's comment. ' _It's been a long time?'_ Bronwyn wondered, _What does that mean? I thought he's always been with the Warden.._. His strawberry blonde hair was cut close, with the front a gradual incline. Blue-grey eyes were hard and alert, but could be soft if he relaxed. She saw the softness the night before in the inn's commons. He was a good foot taller than her and was broad shouldered. It tapered down to his narrow torso and hips. With only chainmail for armor, she could clearly see his build.

"Well there's a meeting tonight, reports on how well the rebuilding is coming along and all," Neal was saying, "But I've got to shoe some more horses before then. Let me take those horses for you."

He took the reins of their two horses and turned to lead them to the barns. Duncan took a deep breath. "You heard the man. There's a meeting tonight, and I'd like you two to be there."

"Ahwl, come on. It'll be boring. Only the old Wardens will attend." Alistair smiled, a mischievous tone in his voice. Duncan shook his head.

"Are you saying I'm old?"

He knocked Duncan's arm with his elbow. "Of course, we wouldn't miss it."

The men all came in and sat down or stood, waiting for the meeting to begin. The sun was fading and most were hoping it could have waited until after supper. At the back of the room, Bronwyn sat in a fur covered chair next to Alistair. So far, other than Duncan, he was the only other Warden she knew and felt comfortable.

An older woman entered the building. Her mannerisms were that of a seasoned warrior. Her head was held high and expressionless. She took a seat on a bench near the small fire. When she saw Bronwyn, her face slightly soften. She looked like she ddin't expected to see another female as much as Bronwyn did.

"How long do meetings usually take?" Bronwyn asked Alistair, leaning her head in his direction. The tip of her braid touched his bare forearm.

"Well, it depends on what kind of meeting." He turned to her and quietly explained. "If it's a tactics and battle meeting, it could take a few hours for everyone to know the plans. If someone doesn't pay attention in the prior meetings, then the battlefield could be a real disaster. Small meetings like reports or supply meetings don't take long at all."

"Hmm. And supper will be after?" Bronwyn grinned up at him. Her stomach growled and then she giggled.

"Right after. Which your stomach would be much obliged." He snickered before turning his head to the middle of the room. Duncan's face was illuminated by the fire in front of him. The wood hissed and popped, sending smoke up through the vent in the roof. He waited until he got everyone's attention.

"First, as you all know, some of us have been gone searching for recruits for quite some time. Those recruits have now been intitated through the Joining. We may present them to you now. May I start with my own. Lady Bronwyn, High Lord Baric's youngest daughter." He guestured to her.

Everyone looked in her direction, each giving his own acknowledgment. Bronwyn gave a light smile, nervous for have been pointed out. Her cheeks began to tingle. With her inherited pale skin and rich red-brown hair, her face was sure to redden. After the other Wardens began to introduce their new recruits, she glanced shyly at Alistair and away before he saw her flush.

"Welcome all new Wardens. It will be a tough road, but it's nothing you can't handle." Duncan continued. "This will be a brief meeting, for those of you who patiently wait on supper. We've received good reports on the progress of the rebuilding efforts in small towns and villages that cannot rebuild on their own. Larger villages within two miles of these can afford to send men to aid efforts. We have groups of Warden helping in Gileha, Ostem, Swin, Latheo, and Winestom, the most effected by the Blight. They have received shipments of supplies for the townspeople as well. No word of rouge Darkspawn as of yet, but always be vigilant. We won the Blight; the does not mean the Darkspawn are extinct. As of the moment there are no other reports, so assume the efforts are going well and without delay. When we hear more, another meeting will be called."

With that everyone who was sitting rose and those who had been standing walked out, talking softly to each other. Duncan had not left the fire, and was now speaking to a group.

"Wait, that was it? It's over?" She asked, confused when Alistair stood. He stretched his back, arching and twisting his torso.

"I told you they were short," he said with a grunt and then he chuckled. "Wait until you have to sit through the long ones. Talk about creaking joints. Come on, let's get some food."

They walked out of that building and to another. A large fire was blazing in front of it. Above it, an animal was finishing roasting on a stick supported by two polls. Another one was already done and laying on a table. Men were carving it and putting the cooked meat in neat piles.

Inside, there were big bowls full of raw and cooked vegetables, baskets of bread, and barrels of ale. It all looked delicious. People were now filling their plates, coming and going from each of the food bowls. Bronwyn got one of each of everything. Alistair looked at all the food in her hands. He flashed her a glimpse of his white teeth in a huge grin. "I'm glad to see that someone eats as much as I do around here."

"I grew up with a lot of food, so I'm used to it. Father fed us like pigs to be slaughtered." She giggled.

"So did I." His eyes went soft, as if recalling special memories. He smiled and continued on down the table.

"So you grew up as a Lord's son, I take it?"

He tried to be nonchalant and nodded. "You could say that."

Bronwyn watched him leave to find a bench. She instinctively knew she had touched on something personal, even if it was unintentional. Everyone had a past. It was just up to an individual to share it. _I wonder what his is. It can't be that bad._ Turning from the food table, she saw Alistair nod his head towards a chair he'd saved for her.

She sat down, remembering she forgot a drink. She looked over at the barrels next to the table. They all looked alike. The first one opened was an ale of some kind. Not wanting it -after remembering the awful taste at the inn- she asked, "Do Wardens drink anything else besides ale?"

He grinned. "We do have water. I'll go get you some."

"No, no," she said when he stood up, "You don't have to. I can get it."

"It's no problem."

With that hd left to fetch her a pitcher.

* * *

Bronwyn stared at the ceiling of her room. The one window she had streamed in the moonlight. She heard crickets chirping and guards talking quietly outside, as well as the dying crackling of the fire from supper. As tired as she was, she could hardly sleep. Just twenty-four hours before she had been so excited she'd exhausted herself. Now it was the complete opposite.

Her thoughts turned to her family. She had been so excited when her father allowed Duncan to recruit her. When her mother passed, her father and her brothers hadn't pushed her onto another caretaker. They took turns including her in their affairs. It was the reason why she enjoyed riding horses and watching the training. Though when she had reached a certain age, her father couldn't ignore the fact that she had to learn the ways of women. She had been young; she barely remembered. Growing up without a stable female example had made her into what she was. She didn't regret it. But maybe the way she didn't have many friends.

Her thoughts then went to Alistair. A mystery man. A handsome man. Her mind recalled his face. He reminded her of royalty. Accepting the fact that she'd probably never know his full history, she pushed away the evening's questions about his past. The way his eyes looked, if even for a flying moment, when she had asked about his childhood home. They had seemed haunted.

 _Come on, just think of sleeping,_ she told herself and shut her eyes. She lay there for several mintues and willed everything in her to drift away. Her body was willing but her mind was not.

Maybe she just needed air.

She pulled back her unbound hair with a pin and got dressed. Quietly opening the door, she stepped into the hall. Everything was dark. No one in the building was awake at this hour. She made her way down the stairs and to the doors, glad for the moonlight spilling through the windows to help her orient herself.

She avoided the guards, going around to the back of the buildings instead. She didn't want to be polite. Just stretch her legs and quiet her mind with a short walk. It was a different scene at night. It wasn't the busy town that it had been during the day. Everything seemed still, peaceful.

The steps to the top of the walls were to her right. She went up them, curious of what the view looked like from there. It didn't disappoint. The leaves on the trees swayed with the small breeze and a small creek flowed some yards away. The rustling leaves and the tinkle of the stream were loud in comparison to the rest of the silent night. Guards stood watch in the tree stands and looked out into the dark horizon. She craned her neck back, holding onto the wall to steady herself. There were some spots through the canopy of leaves above where she could see clusters of stars against the dark blue sky. Some twinkled, some were solid, but each one stood out and claimed its spot.

She pulled her long hair from the tie and let the breeze blow through it. The waves and various soft curls blew against the wind, whipping across her face and then back behind her. She took a stand in her hand and combed her fingers through while she looked out to the wilderness beyond. It had been a month since she'd been alone. And even longer since she was able to be a girl.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

The voice made Bronwyn jump. She looked to her left and saw Alistair.

"Oh, you scared me. I, I couldn't sleep, so I figured fresh air would be best..."

He had been leaning on the wall doing the same thing she was. His clothing had been changed to a dark green tunic and brown trousers. He knew she hadn't seen him when she had come up, so he watched her a while before he spoke up. "Sorry for scaring you."

"Can't sleep either?"

He nodded and ran his hand over his hair. He straightened. "I better get back."

Bronwyn curiously watched him. There was something obviously wrong, and he obviously didn't want anyone to know about it. Or maybe just her. It was almost as if he was uncomfortable by her presence. She wanted to ask him to tell her what was wrong, that maybe she could help him, but thought against it and bit her tongue.

Before she could say anything, he excused himself and took the steps down to the ground, walking casually back to his room.

* * *

Alistair sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands and sighed. Night was the worse time for his emotions to get the better of him, as he couldn't sleep, but he guessed it was better than breaking down during the day where others could see his pain.

It was night when it had happened. It had barely been six months, but his emotions had grown soft for her. He tried to stop it, tried to keep his mind on task. The Grey Warden depended on him. The whole of Fereldan depended on his level headed decisions. Though it was working together with her that counted and they had both grown somewhat close.

 _"It is not just my decision, Alistair. You have as much say as I do." The lovely woman walked up to him, a few scrolls in her arms. He watched her set them on the desk and look at him. "I know you'd rather be a Grey Warden, but you were born for more. A higher place, however honorable the Warden are. Don't fight me. Please."  
_

 _Alistair sighed and touched her face. "I know. I try not to. This is all... sudden. It's just different to me. From what I'm used to. I agree, we have to make decisions together. But this one is one that you can make without me. How the city is run during times of peace can be something you can decree. When the Blight is over." He added._

 _She seemd to accept his words and smiled. "But you'll make other decisions with me as well, right?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"Ok then." She took his hand and moved in to kiss him. He slightly moved his head a fraction, looking behind her. She paused as her small smile faintly faded. She kissed in between his lips and cheek and let go of his limp hand. She knew his heart was not hers. He was there solely on the fact that it was his duty. They were bound by blood to run this together._

He squeezed his eyes tighter, daring the tears to escape now. His hold lessed as the mental imagines of that night ran through his memory.

 _"Alistair, what is going on?!" Anora cried. She looked on horrified as her would-be assassin husband held the point of a sword under her father's chin. Alistair was tense, struggling to keep on task. Loghain was a traitorous murderer, and his exiting the battlefield where the king died months prior... it was outright dishonor and shame. Two other Warden stood, armed and ready for a fight. They faced Loghain, but had turned to Anora, and then to Alistair. He ignored his wife and addressed his father-in-law who he held captive._

 _"How I've wanted to do this for a long time. To see you die for crimes committed against the crown. Cailan was your King! He was my brother, you insolent bastard!"  
_

 _Anora tried to run in between them but Elissa held her back. She was frantic and close to tears. "Alistair! Alistair, please! I beg you, don't kill him!"  
_

 _"Have you told your only daughter? How you pledged your fealty to Cailan, only to committ the most heinous crime against him." Alistair said through clamped teeth. His eyes were locked onto Loghain's. Sweat broke out on his brow. "Have you told y_ _our daughter, who you forcibly threw at me, for marriage?_ _So you could kill me only after I gave her a son? So you could secure your own blood to the throne!" He pushed the tip into Loghain's neck, shaking his head and intently staring at the man at sword point like a Mabari hound on the kill._

 _Elissa looked to Alistair, her eyes full of sorrow while she held back Alistair's wife. The King's wife. He looked into her eyes, knowing the love for him. He returned her love, but legally she was only his mistress. It killed him that it was the only thing he could give her. He wanted nothing more than her at his side. In his bed. She held his heart._

 _"What? Father, tell them that's not true! You wouldn't do that!"_

 _Loghain's eyes moved from Alistair to his weeping daughter. His eyes were hard. There was no forgiveness on his lips. He grinned and looked hard at Alistair. "You are smarter than I first thought. You may Cailan's brother, but I know your history, I know. You're only half blood. Your father was a whore, taking his pick of the maidservants. When he discovered you, he opted for your disposal. You're nothing but the dead bastard son of a dead king!"_

 _Alistair's eyes went hard and he let out a cry, but couldn't bring himself to follow through. Loghain took advantage of the hesitation and ducked. He dove at Alistair's legs, driving him to the ground._

 _"No! No! Stop! Please!" Anora screamed, her hands flying to her mouth. Elissa pushed her back and grabbed the fallen sword. Loghain's hands were around Alistair's neck, choking him, pinching off all air._

 _Elissa drove the sword through Loghain's back. The pressure on Alistair's neck lessened and he coughed, his face cherry red. He kicked him off, and sat up rubbing his neck. Instinctively, he looked at Elissa, silently thanking her._ _There was finally justice for his brother._ _The screams and sobs from his wife were strangely unconcerning to him. Elissa cleaned off and handed Alistair back his sword, hilt first. He clasped his hand over hers as he took it, the first physical contact with her since his coronation and wedding day._

Anora was the best and worse thing that could have happened to him during that time. Even though he didn't love her, he truly cared for her anyhow. Because of her, he was able to claim his birthright. He didn't want to hurt her by killing her father, but it was the right thing to do, given the recent past events. He would have done it. He planned on it. But he faultered. Elissa finished what had to be done.

And ever since her, the last Grey Warden that Duncan had recruited, back when the Blight began... Back when they had fought side by side, traveled together, and all those times they had talked about life and death. When she died, and there was nothing to do. He couldn't get to her in time. To save her.

His place was higher than hers had been though. He sighed, willing back the tears from his aching heart. It felt as if his heart would leave him, that the pain he carried mingled with the emotions would cause his heart too much burden and collapse. His face contorted with the effort.

 _Elissa watched the monsters progess, watched them run into the lines of Cailan's men. They slashed at the armored men, swiftly making their way towards the center where the King fought. She held up her sword, head whipping around behind her, eyes searching for Alistair. He pushed his sword into the lower abodmen of the ugly Darkspawn in front of him, twisting the sword as he pulled it out. Blood gushed from the wound and the monster fell over. Alistair slashed his neck for good measure, another bout of thick dark blood shot out._

 _He saw Elissa's face, covered in blood, as well as covered as his own. The silent, invisible words between them were so thick, they could understand each other from the large distance. He started to run towards her, his shield blocking the blow of a Darkspawn, and shoved his sword quickly into its throat._

 _Elissa turned to the wall of gruesome monsters coming up the side of the hill as they devoured Warden and soliders alike. She pulled out the other sword at her side, twisting them both in the air beside her before they were brought together like scissors at the neck of one of the monsters. Its disfigured head flew from its body, the large spray of tainted blood spilled across her face._

 _The wall of Darkspawn were advancing. Warden were scattered over the area, fighting where they were stopped, blocked by massive Darkspawn bodies aiming to kill. Alistair yelled and willed his legs to carry him faster to her. A Warden a few yards away from Elissa fell, a thick black Darkspawn arrow run through his eye._

 _Alistair looked to his right, above on the taken towers, as a Darkspawn archer drew back on his bow. He watched it happen in slow motion, the arrow loosed, aimed for Eilssa. She advanced down the hill, two more Warden along side. The poison-tipped arrow pierced her above the collarbone. She gasped, eyes wide in pain. She parried a Darkspawn sword, only barely._

 _Alistair's heart sped up, an icy jolt of adrenaline shot through him before turning hot, and his fury raged. "Elissa! Elissa!" He roared, a Darkspawn came up to his side with a sword aimed at his chest. He swatted the sword away with his shield and punched it in the misformed face, and brought his sword down on its ugly head._

 _He watched helpless though he ran towards her, as one of the bastards swung its sword across her body, knocking her to the ground. She twisted as she fell, landing on her stomach. Eyes wide with anger and fear of losing her, Alistair saw the sword come down point first into her back._

He opened his eyes, their excessive wetness threatened to fall on his cheeks. He willed them away. He would morn them, but no tears would fall. It was no good to dwell on the past. Breathing evenly and deeply, he laid back and tried to relax long enough to fall asleep, and hoped that she -both women- would allow him rest.

* * *

 **AN** :

BACKGROUND for those of you who need more information. The italized parts in the story -here and other chapters- are memories and/or thoughts. The italized paragraphs here are Alistair's memories of past events. He is a Warden, but since he is King Meric's son, he has claim to the throne. Cailan died on the battlefield during the Fifth Blight. The battle plan was for the Darkspawn to attack Ostagar and Loghain's men would flank them. Elissa and Alistair would light the beacon at the top of the Tower of Ishal to signal Loghain to send in the men and finish the battle. But Loghain quit and retreated at the sight of the lit beacon because he wanted the throne for himself. In abandoning them, every Warden and soldier, including Cailan, would die and therefore securing himself. But Elissa and Alistair survive this.

(This enters my imagination for the story): After the battle, Loghain's daughter is presented as Queen. Since Alistair is his father's son, his right to the throne still stands. He steps up and sees no other way but to marry Anora so he could claim his birthright. Since his sense of duty to Anora is so strong, he tries to break things off with Elissa, but he can't.

One night presented a perfect time to assassinate Loghain; Elissa and other Warden were let in by Alistair to aid him in the deed. He wanted vengence for his brother and since he is king he is able to do as he pleases. He has him at sword point but Anora finds herself witnessing events.

He decides later to step down as king and allow Anora to rule, rejoining the Warden who had survived and to be with Elissa freely, while still legally bound to the Queen. They meet the Darkspawn again in battle, where Elissa is killed. This is devastating to Alistair. Later on that month, Loghain's remaining men want to stop Alistair's line from happening. They kill Anora -they don't know if she is with child or not. Alistair receives word of her murder and returns to the castle to take care of unfinished business.

The first chapter of this story begins when Duncan and Alistair meet up for the first time since Anora's murder and Duncan takes him to retrieve his newest recruit, Bronwyn. So now you are caught up.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN** : This is another one I've had half way written, but never got around to finishing. It desperately needs editing, or rewritten. I'll update it soon, but my Gajeel story will take priority over this one. Might wanna check that one out if you haven't already. :-}

-I don't own any pictures used

-I don't own Dragon Age

-Rated T for violence and some language

* * *

Chapter 3

A few drops of blood hit the dirt when Bronwyn's breath came out in a rush. Her face throbbed next to the ground, a hot sensation pulsing to her nose. She reached up and touched her face, managing to keep a groan from voicing. Blood came out slowly from one nostril. The pommel of the hilt had come out of nowhere.

She pulled herself up and picked up her sword. The man who had hit her was smirking. He stood there ready, watching her as she glared at him. "I said there were no rules."

Bronwyn wiped her top lip with the back of her hand and growled. "I wasn't ready for that."

"Darkspawn don't wait for you to be 'ready'. A Warden is constantly on guard." He swung at her, and she easily parried. "And neither do others who want you dead."

Another attack aiming for her legs. She back swung her sword to deflect it. Her brother's sword wasn't as heavy as some of the others she had tried. She prefered it, as she's used it since she could remember.

"Good." The man said, and took a step back. "You are good on defenses. Who taught you?"

"No one really... I watched my brothers lessons, and my father's soliders train."

"So in other words, you taught yourself." He lifted his eyebrow and smiled, clearly impressed. "Well let's see your offense." He held out his sword.

Bronwyn took a few steps for her mind to bring up attack tactics. She rushed foward, raising her own towards the man's neck. He blocked it and swatted her sword away his his own, immediately aiming his blade in the same place on her.

Deflecting that, she swiftly sidestepped left and went for his side. The man was barely able to turn at the angle and slightly lost balance, recovering only to step out of the way before her blade caught his right thigh.

They moved across the dirt ring, the dust flying around their feet. The man nicked her hand through her glove. A sharp sting sparked on the fleshy part of her right hand. She gritted her teeth and continued on, her stamina slightly higher than it had been when the Darkspawn had attacked the farmers.

She let out of breath as she lunged for the man's open chest. The hard leather lesson armor blocked the potentially fatal blow and the blade moved off with only a bounce. The man was knocked backwards, and the fence kept him from toppling back first.

"Good, " he said again. He felt where the sword had boucned off. "There is always room for improvement, no matter how good you are. I see now why Duncan picked you. He has an eye for skill and raw talent."

She nodded and smiled, catching her breath. She enjoyed sparring. It gave her something to focus on, an aim to be better. She had always been in good physcial condition because of that. Her stamina was something she had to work on, as she was clearly out of breath and needed water. She lasted a lot longer this time, however.

Walking to the edge of the small arena, she took a drink and washed her nose, getting the bits of dried blood. There was a rack of weapons next to the water bucket. Maces, hammers, short swords, daggers, and long swords were placed on their own levels. Before she put her sword back into its scabbard, she heard the man call to her. "How is your duel handed sparring?"

* * *

Duncan knelt down, examining a small print on the game trail. He lifted a fallen leaf from the indents. A Haei deer had crossed the stream and made the track earlier that morning, from the looks of it. He glanced up at Simane. The female Warden nodded her head. Alistair peered around Duncan to see the track for himself.

Rising, Duncan murmured, "I bet it went down into the gorge." He pointed to their right. With the size of it and with no other set of tracks, he guessed it to be a young buck. The hide of a Haei was extremely soft and if tanned, would make a good rug or child's blanket. The Warden used almost all of anything they kill; the meat and some innards for food, the hide for various homemaking materials, and tendons and legiments for pack ties, bow strings, and other countless uses. What is discarded is given to the Marbari hounds. The hooves apparently were their favorite.

The three of them went on in silence, walking down the trail in single file, each holding a bow. The foilage in the forest around the village was dense even in winter. Some of the trees never lost their leaves or needles. Small tree dwelling animals called out, watching the Warden trek through their homeground.

Alistair spotted the deer's tail, swooshing as he picked grass. He motioned for the others to look. The deer continued on, occasionally looking up while it chewed, but oblivious to the hunters. His antlers were good sized, an older male of at least 3 seasons. Alistair quietly picked an arrow from his quiver and nocked it, waiting for the deer to drop its head down.

Pulling back the string, he aimed and waited for it to come into position. The three of them tensed as another deer hopped into view a few yards from the buck. It was instantly alert and its eyes were on the other, a female it looked like. The female's tail was up in warning and flicked her ears back and ran off. The buck did the same and took off towards her, bounding over fallen trees and running with his tail up.

"That bitch," Simane remarked, a grin on her face. "I've never seen them do that before."

Alistair slowly released the bowstring and put the arrow back. He chuckled, just as surprised as she was. "Guess they're getting smarter. They do have brains."

Nodding, Duncan said, "They learn quickly. If they were wolves, we'd have been the hunted."

They would have to return to their base empty handed. The village had enough supplies, though another carcass added to the kitchens would have been nice. The daylight was about to start fading. There would be other days to try again.

As they hiked back the way the came, Simane broke the silence. "I was thoroughly surprised that you found a female recuit, Duncan."

"Oh, she is a marvel, yes. She has a lot to learn, but I was more surprised with her audacity and courage."

"Oh? How much courage?"

Alistair silently looked up from the ground at the female Warden's question.

"I was camped at the edge of the forest beside Baric's castle," Duncan replied, "A band of Darkspawn rounded the top of the horizon and killed a few farmers tending to their wheat crop. A bell sounded out, and soon soldiers came gallping out to meet them. The village and the castle work together; the village supplies food and other various things, while the castle trades for food and the soldiers protect them.

I watched while they engaged the monsters, and then from the village, appears a last minute horse and rider. The rider dismounts and runs to meet them. I figure out later that Bronwyn had dressed for battle and before my eyes was holding her own."

"Sounds like she does have it then." Simane said, "And a lot of it."

"I was lucky to have found her."

Simane addressed Alistair, who had been quiet for some time, just listening. "Duncan had also recruited you, Alistair. What do you think of his choice in Bronwyn?"

And there it was. A question he knew would be coming. He glanced out to the scenery. "I haven't seen her use a sword yet, but I trust Duncan's judgement."

Simane turned her head, giving Alistair a look. "Come now, you must have a better assessment of her, being that you were with Duncan to retrieve her."

He knew Simane was just making conversation, but he really didn't want to talk about Bronwyn. Not that she wasn't right for a Warden's title or didn't earn her place, he was just in a vunerable position. The emotional scars weren't fully healed.

"She's ok. She's quiet but intelligent. Still young enough to be molded into an elite warrior." He forcefully expressed, eyes focusing on the trail. _And no one could ignore her auburn hair and her pale skin, how it contrasts and makes her exotically beautiful,_ he thought, the image of Bronwyn coming to his mind.

"That's what I thought," Simane smiled, "I'll have to attempt to teach her the art of subtle warfare."

Simane was a master at crafting poison and had some skill with magic to enchant weaponary, used to either drain the target of its energy to replenish the enchantment or add strength and speed. She also spent time practicing making traps and trying them out in the forest to potentially bring in some game meat. Because of these she was classified as a Rouge. Her skills were a valuable asset to any one group as she was a silent killer.

"We had better get our own drinks from now on." Duncan joked to Alistair. They laughed while Simane tried to defend the honor of her skills. She was a good sport about things, as she was the only female -aside from Bronwyn- and has had to live with the harassment.

"I'd like to see you two survive on just traps and poisons."

Arriving back to the main entrance, they noticed a small group of men standing by a practice area. They were watching two Warden spar. For them to have noticed another Warden in that way was interesting. It meant that whoever it was they were watching demanded the audicence through sheer skill.

"Who is that with Grimsa, I wonder?" Simane asked, expecting to recognize the opponent. They stopped to watch alongside the handful of men already there. They saw the two in the dance of swordplay, each wielding two blades. Grimsa would yell out "Good!" or the occasional "Watch your footing", when instructing. The other would adjust accordingly and achieve what was expected.

One of the Warden glanced to Duncan and said with a snicker, "That's your new one, Bronwyn, I think. She's giving Grimsa a taste of his own medicine."

Duncan nodded to himself and his eyebrows raised, impressed. "I wasn't aware she could duel wield."

Alistair had to all but do a double take at the scene. That was Bronwyn? The quiet and shy one? Matching the swordsmaster? He watched tranfixed now. "How old is she?" She looked like a young teenager out there, small and compact, but her skill at the moment was that of near mastership.

"She's just barely nineteen. And a marvel for anyone her age." Duncan replied, crossing his arms while he watched the fight.

Alistair nodded, his eyes following the fluid movements. He had thought she was younger. She apparently knew her way around a sword, at least. She struck and parried with opposite hands, using both blades with obvious experience and grace. He watched her form and saw she understood the art. She really was a spectacle.

Grimsa saw an opening in Bronwyn's defenses and took the opportunity. She was tiring and slow to parry away. He struck at her right side with his left, and with his right disarmed her left. He held her there while she breathed hard, in between his blades.

"Not bad. You're better than most your age." Grimsa commented. He withdrew his swords and wiped sweat from his eyebrows, then waved to the people at the fence.

They all dispersed and went their own ways, talking amongst themselves and resuming their daily duties. Duncan and Simane did the same, leaving Alistair at the fence thinking. He was only four years older than she, and what she just displayed had whipped him at that age. When he trained for his classification, he was uninterrested in Rouge battle tactics and lacked the cordination that duel wielding involved yet mastered just about everything else associated with Warrior. He had never seen anyone her age -let alone a girl- who possessed the level of Rouge skill.

He had to be careful.

Slowly walking away, he pulled his eyes off of Bronwyn while she stacked the weapons. He couldn't let himself. As young as he was, he had too much experience with women. His time with them had gone awry and left deep lesions. He would protect her as a Warden and help her gain necessary skill and wisdom, but he drew the line there. Picking up the pace, he focused on the buildings ahead, forcing the beautfiul red head from his mind.

* * *

The man knocked on the door frame, interrupting a small meeting. The room was firelit, except for an oil lamp near the desk decorated with maps, opened books, and scrolls. Bookshelves and maps lined the walls. Four men stood around a desk. Liyas looked up from the desk and the three present with his chin in his hand. He saw his spy at the door, waiting with an expression on his face.

"Ah, Farrem, on time as usual," he closed a book and addressed the men that served as advisors. "Thank you for meeting me, we can resume tomorrow the same time."

After they left, Liyas started to clean up the desk. "Your news?"

"I believe you'll like what I've managed to gather," he grinned, crossing his arms. "Darkspawn mingle west of Soephrin, growing in numbers. They've shown no alliance as of yet with Loghain's remaining men, but are close to submitting. Of the deserters, all but one has been eliminated."

Liyas nodded, still looking at the desk's papers. He looked up at the spy. "And what of that one?"

"He was deft, though not able to shake a tracker. He is heading towards Gileha. What's more interesting is we think he's had a change of heart." He grinned with the knowledge.

"What do you mean, 'a change of heart'?" Liyas's head snapped to the man, eyes glaring.

The man held up his hands as if to calm a spooked horse. "On his way out of Soephrin, he was ambushed by a group of my men, and he begged for his life like some wriggling, worthless maggot. The bloody coward. He agreed in exchange for his life, that he become a spy in the name of Liyas, Loghain's right hand man."

"I see," Liyas said slowly, bringing a hand to his chin again. "What else can you tell me?"

"He is heading to Gileha to help the Warden rebuild the damaged villages."

Liyas at first looked confused, but as revelation flashed across his eyes, he started to smile. "And win confidence in the Warden and learn of their whereabouts, only to double cross them. I like your mind, Farrem. Excellent plan. Have him report weekly to you or of your choice. I want to know how things are established."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN** : This is another one I've had half way written, but never got around to finishing. It desperately needs editing, or rewritten. I'll update it soon, but my Gajeel story will take priority over this one. Might wanna check that one out if you haven't already. :-}

-I don't own any pictures used

-I don't own Dragon Age

-Rated T for violence and some language

* * *

Chapter 4

Bronwyn expertly tightened the cinch as she had done so many times before. Her chestnut looked at her with his left eye, watching her movements. With that done, she tied her pack behind the saddle and waited for the others. Duncan spoke to Alistair nearby, holding some small pouch.

Simane was finishing up with her horse when Alistair came up. Duncan had given it to him before he turned to leave. He tied it to the saddle, hiding it behind his pack. He swung himself up into the saddle. "Alright, let's go."

Simane was used to not knowing where she was sent. As long as she knew why, where was not a concern. She would follow her fellow Warden into the unknown if it would end things such as Blights.

However Bronwyn looked up at him. Her face twisted into a frown. She lifted her hand in the air. "Why are we leaving now?" She was beginning to feel tired, like all the other nights she'd been here. It was normal to sleep at night.

"We will cover more ground during the day if we leave now." He stopped his horse, waiting for her.

Grumbling, she pulled herself up, settling quickly. Alistair led them to the secret tunnel. Once on the other side, he covered the entrance. They plodded along into the night, following a path. Crickets and other nocturnal insects added to the dull thud of hoof beats. Fireflies glowed and parted as the horses walked through them hovering in the air.

From beside him, Simane noticed Alistair's unusual tension. When they traveled he cracked jokes every now and again to lighten the trip, to keep everyone happy and temporarly content. Now he was silent, hardly spoken anything to his companions upon leaving their garrison. She glance behind her shoulder brieftly at Bronwyn, who was giving attention to her horse, then to Alistiar. She proceeded with caution. "I get the feeling you aren't in agreement with something, concerning our current assignment."

He shifted his eyes from the path to her. "I'm not in total approval with Duncan's decision, no."

"I had overheard talk about a Mage, but knowing how many of us are spread out, I disregarded the information thinking it was about another garrison." Simane nonchalantly told him. Bronwyn heard something about a mage and looked up from the horse, listening intently.

"No," he sighed, "we are currently on our way to meet this said Mage and bring him to the garrison." He sounded annoyed. The mission was not something he would have readily agreed to do.

Bronwyn had heard of Mages before now. Her experience was vauge, but she knew they had certain magical abilities. Mages inherited magic through their bloodlines. The enchantments that Simane used were learned from extreme patience and concentration. Bronwyn had watched magic lessons growing up, only allowed to see the basic ones. She never had the patience involved with it. "So Duncan thinks he will be of good use then. Is it really that bad?"

Alistair snorted. "I know Mages, sweetheart. They're fickle and are concerned with no one but themselves. Their alliances are weighed against how much they can get out of it in the end. I've seen them cheat others out of possessions. Out of loved ones," he paused, looking at Bronwyn, who had just brought her horse to his left. "It can switch as fast as one changes the mind. I don't trust them. Any of them."

He wasn't sure how this Mage would interact with them. His knowledge of them were based on tales told by villagers to Warden. Anora had had one in the castle solely on the fact that her family worked within the castle walls for generations. He hadn't been particularly fond of her, but she was pleasant. Maybe it was just the males he didn't like. They were manipulative and twisted truths to accomplish dirty deeds. Which made him think of Bronwyn.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye. Now knowing she was just a few years younger, he allowed himself to look at her in the bright moonlight. Her hair was loosely pulled back into a tail, the soft curls shooting in different directions. The light made it look black against her pale skin. The contrasts were so extreme -in daylight as well- Alistair didn't know if he'd ever seen another woman like her. Her facial features were gentle and easy on the eyes. With one look at her face, he would have guessed she was from a royal line. She wasn't strong enough to wear plated armor yet, and the chainmail clung to her, accentuating her ample curves... His eyes went up to her face. Feeling his eyes on her, she caught his gaze, smiling. It sent a quick jolt through his insides, icy at first, then warm. It ran through his being.

She was not ugly. By any means.

Before he could return the smile, a throat cleared itself, interrupting Alistair's dangerously trailing thoughts. Simane was looking at him, somehow aware of his mind's occupancy. She tried to hide a grin, but didn't say a word. She was older and knew her chance at love was over, having devoted herself entirely to the Grey Warden. It was her life. She also knew that Alistair wasn't all Grey Warden material. He was still King of Fereldan, and what he thought or did was no concern of hers. History repeated itself though, and she had cleared her throat as a reality check; love wounds were the last wounds to fully heal.

Alistair fidgeted, his head nodding as if to thank her for the distraction, and he squeezed the horse's side. It jumped to a slow trot. He just had to make it through until they arrived back to Duncan.

* * *

The sun beat down on them. The rays were hot and underneath chainmail, it was hell. They walked up the small hill leading to the Mage's property. The house was well cared for and sat on the outskirts of a small town. Beside the house was a large garden. Stakes were holding plants up that were growing skyward and some plants were big and bulbous. A few looked foriegn, could be some of magical origin. The three of them approached the house with caution.

Alistair firmly knocked on the wood door. "Mage?"

No answer. Simane, still holding the reins of the horses, looked at Bronwyn. Every second they stood on the property made Bronwyn feel uneasy. Maybe this was why Alistair had distain for Mages. She could certainly adopt his feelings; she wanted to leave.

Alistair's annoyance was at its threshold. He tried again. "Mage!"

"Knock all you want, no one will open the door." A smooth voice said behind them. They all quickly turned, the horses as well, jumped at the unexpected answer.

The Mage carried a basket of items, and led a small donkey laiden with a pack. His blonde long hair was straight, the top half pulled back, and blue eyes stared at them. "I guess I could let you in, if you ask nicely."

He pulled the donkey along. His icy gaze looked at each of them in turn as he made his way up the inlicne to his house. Bronwyn shifted uncomfortably as the blue eyes looked her up and down. Alistair moved away from the door, closer to Bronwyn. The Mage then swept his perceptive eyes onto Alistair, a grin slowly appearing on his face.

"In you go." He told the donkey. The little grey animal walked into the house, turning around to watch his master.

"The donkey lives inside the house with you?" Bronwyn couldn't help it. She'd never knew of a donkey living a house with a human. Or Mage.

"Yes. Though appearances are not always as they seem."

He opened the door further. A grey horse's head peered outside and nickered to their horses.

Bronwyn's eyes widened. "What? How did-"

"That is only for us Mages to know, my sweet dear." His smooth voice slipped out like a velvet carpet. His gaze however, was peircing. His gaze intensified, the uncomfortable feeling swept over her again.

Alistair moved again, inadvertently interrupting the link to the Mage. "Enough games. I know you were expecting Grey Warden. Duncan sent us.

Upon the Warden's name, the Mage nodded. He held the basket with both hands in front of him. "Duncan, yes. I received word that he would be sending a few Grey Warden indeed. As I understand, you come to take me to Duncan, to help the humans rebuild their villages."

Alistair nodded. "That is what he told me."

"And you have the agreed upon payment Duncan promised me for my indefinite services?"

Motioning to the small sack on his saddle, he nodded. He watched the Mage consider. He shifted his weight to his left leg and crossed his arms over his chest. His hand was ready to move to his sword if need arose.

Bronwyn looked up at him with interested green eyes. She liked the way he stood a foot away, half shielding her with his body. Her eyes skimmed over the tops of his shoulders, down his upper arms and back. Her eyes didn't dare trail farther.

The Mage was taking his time. Alistair sensed he was interested in Bronwyn, never once giving Simane a second glance. He was struck by a feeling he hadn't had in a while. His mind was surprised to see jealously spring to life as the Mage looked upon Bronwyn.

"Very well," the Mage said at last. "Since we are to be traveling, my name is Manon. Though you may call me Mage if you like." He smiled, showing white teeth.

"How do we know that is your real name? Considering your donkey." Alistair questioned, arms still crossed.

"I assure you, I do not deceive," Manon held up a hand, "But as a Mage, you must allow me my blood rights." He pursed his lips, his facial features turning sharp.

He didn't want to, knowing full well what magic users were capable of doing, but Alistair nodded once, his mind thinking of the girl behind him. He would protect her, at least until they were done with this mission. His gut instincts told him that this Manon was up to no good. No matter what he said. He took no Mage at their word.

"Well then, just let me gather some things and then we'll be off. I suppose you would like to make it back as soon as possible."

They waited while Manon went about business in his home. A few minutes later, he emerged and stepped to the side and the grey horse walked out. His ears flicked towards his new traveling companions. Manon packed his things on the horse, sitting bareback. "I've never taken to the saddle," he told them, "It hurts the joints."

They found a place to rest just as the last of the sun's rays cast long shadows over the land. Bronwyn all but fell out of the saddle from fatigue. She dragged her body from her picketed horse and laid down next the the fire Manon had made. Her eyes were so heavy, she barely could watch as Alistair unsaddled her house and set her pack down by her head.

Manon sat down opposite from her and watched the proceedings. Simane was cooking some of the food they had brought and Alistair just finished with the horses. Manon had turned his grey horse back into the donkey, which was now laying beside him.

"Don't fall asleep yet, " Simane said, looking over to Bronwyn. "You'll miss my cooking."

"Oh, it's ok, you won't miss much." Alistair joked and sat down next to her. Bronwyn opened her eyes, forcing herself to sit up. The food smelled good, and her stomach rumbled.

Simane gave Alistair a look but grinned. "It's better than your cooking. You burn everything."

"True." He laughed lightly, his spirits lifting Bronwyn's. She sat crosslegged between him and Simane, feeling protected with them. They quickly ate a small supper consisting of bread, smoked ham, cooked mushrooms, and berries. The fire crackled while they ate, adding to the ambiance. Manon sat with his back straight, eating and speaking only when spoken to. He studied everyone, the mannerisms, and characteristics.

He looked on quietly as Simane sat back against a rock and munched on berries she held in her hands. Bronwyn still sat crosslegged, while Alistair leaned towards her, his right elbow on the ground holding himself up. He grinned when Bronwyn reached for her long hair and brought it to her front, fingering the curls while she spoke to him.

Manon, keeping his face expressionless, found Alistair's attraction to her interesting. He understood his reaction; Bronwyn was very alluring. Her eyes sparkled when looking upon her companion. She was young as well, her skin flawless and pure. She was no doubt undefiled. Manon looked to Alistair.

The young man wasn't trying, but he wasn't on guard either. He seemed to savor her presence. As reserved as he was, Manon could sense where his mind was going. It was just a matter of time. His mouth turned up as he took in the senses. How disgusting, intimacy. He never understood why humans craved that kind of contact other than to reproduce.

"What's the matter?" Simane asked, reaching for more food.

"Just, taking in the sights. I will be going to sleep soon," He put his hands on his knees. "It's past the time I usually go to bed. Good night to you." He laid down, facing his sleeping donkey.

Bronwyn yawned, now starting to feel as she did earlier. Her eyes grew heavy, but she tried to keep them open.

"You should sleep. Either I or Simane will keep first watch." Alistair sat up, sitting crosslegged as well.

Bronwyn nodded and smiled, a yawn taking over. As soon as she laid her head on her pack, she was asleep. When her breathing became steady, Alistair covered her with a blanket and sat down next to her.

"You'll have to tell her how you feel. Or at least explain to her why it must be slow," Simane quietly told him, and then yawned. "She won't understand unless you let her know."

He had suspected Simane had figured out his feelings. He didn't want to talk about himself, especially the vulnerable parts, but nodded. "I didn't plan on this. It's been months since... I just didn't think the feelings would both fade away and arise again." He watched as Simane settled down, giving him first watch.

"Just don't rush it. Let whatever happens, happen in due time. Whether you end up with her or not, you _must_ let the past go. Let them be memories, and leave it there." Simane said, understanding his hesitation. Although love never came for her, she understood feelings and emotions. Hanging onto the past was not healthy. She knew his liasion between the Queen and the other female Warden, but his title allows him to do what he wills. If he wishes to have Bronwyn, she couldn't stop him.

He didn't say anything, letting her fall asleep. Sighing, he turned to Bronwyn. Simane had guessed correctly, and he just knew that Mage did too. Maybe he was sloppy in concealing his emotions now. Rising, he walked around to stretch his legs and checked the horses before he returned to the fire. It was nearing embers. He poked it to life with a stick, small flaming licking the air. His thoughts continually refered to the auburn haired Warden no matter what he tried to think.

Maybe he had begun to stoke a fire in himself he thought would ever rage again.

* * *

 **AN** : I feel like I need to tidy this story up a little, make it stronger... It's been a while since I've really touched it. Like it says above, I need to edit, and probably rewrite.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN** : This is another one I've had half way written, but never got around to finishing. It desperately needs editing, or rewritten. I'll update it soon, but my Gajeel story will take priority over this one. Might wanna check that one out if you haven't already. :-}

-I don't own any pictures used

-I don't own Dragon Age

-Rated T for violence and some language

* * *

Chapter 5

He couldn't believe that he'd been tracked.

The others had scattered in every direction at the moment when Loghain's faithful followers ambushed them. The man was dead. Nothing was going to change that fact. Why some still continued on in his name was uncalled for. He wasn't even a King, just a Stewart who let his daughter rule.

Besides, there were rumors that Darkspawn and Loghain had some special alliance. But if he knew those monsters, they'd have killed Loghain the second they had the chance. Too bad that Alistair got to him first. He couldn't be sure, but some said his lover did it for him. How pathetic. And in the presence of Queen Anora.

There were better ways to assassinate.

And less messy.

Naedil struggled to breath in his plate armor as he walked along the road. The bastards had made him beg. It was his head or be a spy for a man who to him sounded delusional, with his carrying on after the Stewart. Who wouldn't take the latter offer though?

The armor was heavy. He wasn't used to how it set on his body. Sweat had already begun to plague his skin, making wearing the armor even worse. Not to mention that he had no horse. Only some miles left, and he'd arrive in Gileha. He wasn't too keen on helping rebuild houses, barns, harvesting crop, but he didn't want to lose his head either.

Farrem had told him to report at the end of every two weeks about the progress he would hopefully make about information regarding the Grey Warden. Anything he could get his hands on, infiltrate their camp, steal documents. Anything.

There was movement up the path. Naedil took a moment to catch his breath. And think of a plausible story in case it was a Warden. A horse pulling an empty wagon came into full view. Men sat on the wagon, and two were sitting in the front. He guessed they were townsmen going back for more trees for lumber. One of them called out to him waving his arm. "Have you come to help?"

Here goes.

"Yes! I heard Gileha needed help, so I thought I could be of assistance." He let his voice roll smooth and kindly, hoping it sounded sincere.

They nodded and smiled. "Ah, thank you!" An older man said, almost sighing. "The more help we have, the faster we get it done."

"And more time to spend with the women!" Another one excitedly cried. They all laughed and continued on their way. Even Naedil found himself grinning.

The entrance to the town was unguarded and he could see it was busy. Many people went about their business, the bustle of common life ringing out in the day. A group of men surrounded a wooden frame that looked like it belonged to a barn, hoisting the ropes to set it upright.

Naedil walked up and took hold of one, nodding to a slim man beside him. After a struggle, they managed to bring the barn's skeleton to a stand to attach to the side already erect. The slim man rubbed his hands together and turned to Naedil.

"Thanks for the help. We are glad for it," he wiped his forehead with his arm, looking at the armor of the foreigner. "Aren't you a Grey Warden?" The man's eyes were hopeful.

"Indeed." He lied easily.

"Well, welcome to Gileha." With that he turned to help build the other side's frame.

Naedil nodded, not knowing what to do. He inwardly groaned; he did not want to do this, or even act like a Warden. The idea of being a spy sickened him. Not that he agreed with Warden ideals, but spying seemed cowardly, as if one didn't have the sacks to do business upfront. He was a straightforward man who liked to drink his fill at the taverns. Farrem was specific on no drinking. Naedil had the tendency to ingest too much and his mouth loosened. He had to stay away from it, even if at the moment that was the only thing he could think about.

He was drawing attention to himself just standing there like an idiot. Walking over to the other men, he quickly joined in the frame's making, but all the while thinking how he was going to infiltrate the Warden.

* * *

Alistair positioned his horse between Bronwyn's chestnut and Manon's grey. He could sense the Mage's thoughts towards Bronwyn. Mages were known to torture and mutilate for "scientific" and "occult" purposes, all because they prefer a specific subject. Usually it was young women as they were less likely to figure out the mind games and fight back. Not that Manon would do that to a Warden, but Alistair couldn't be too careful.

He already made a promise to himself to protect Bronwyn.

Still looking ahead to the path, Manon gave away nothing, riding along content. Simane, like Alistair, was intent on getting back to the garrison and kept her eye on Manon.

There was a sort of tension and Bronwyn could feel it. It was thick; even the horses could sense it. She fingered the end of her braid and took comfort in the fact that Alistair was beside her. She nervously glanced over, eyeing Manon. He matched her gaze with intensity. An icy pang hit her stomach as a small amount of adrenaline pulsed through her. She breathed in sharply and turned away to look ahead.

Inside her head, she heard a faint voice. It sounded low, slightly above a whisper. Bronwyn knew it wasn't normal, some kind of magic. It made her squirm in the saddle. She shook her head, her hand coming up to her eyes. The voice just wouldn't stop.

Urging with her legs, the chestnut suddenly bounded into a quick gallop. Alistair met Simane's eyes for a brief glance and then took off after the chestnut. Manon's silent smile and calm composure told Simane he had had a part. "What did you do? Tell me now."

He shrugged and shifted, the smile still upon his face. "I did nothing. She just took off. Perhaps she is ill."

Alistair caught up with the young woman. "Bron! Stop!"

She made no intention of slowing down or stopping her horse. She just held on, letting the horse go wherever he chose. He could see a shiny wetness on her cheeks. He sidled the black as close as he could to the chestnut, and made a grab for her reins. Unsuccessful, Alistair guided his horse slightly ahead of hers to cut it off.

The horses eventually stopped, and Alistair dismounted in a jump. Bronwyn was a stable woman. Whatever made her skittish had to have reason. He pulled her down and gripped her by the shoulders. "What is wrong?!"

Bronwyn squeezed her eyes shut in the midst of a deep, straggling breath, a tear traveling down her face. Her fists were clenched and she was trembling.

"Bronwyn, talk to me."

She opened her mouth and a squeak escaped. "I heard a voice... he said my father was dead...". Her wet eyes looked up at him.

"You heard a voice...? Inside your head?" Alistair looked incredulously at her, his head cocking to the side.

"Don't look at me like I'm crazy! I know what I heard!" Bronwyn lashed out and pulled away from him. Alistair let her go but moved closer to her, speaking softly, aware of her emotions.

"I don't doubt what you heard. I'm just trying to process it."

It pained him to watch her cry. Nothing he could say could lessen her hurt. He didn't understand where a voice came from. Neither he nor Simane had heard it. His thoughts turned to Manon and pursed his lips, keeping his snarl silent.

Bronwyn drew a sharp intake of breath as a new set of tears formed. Before she could drop to the ground, Alistair gathered her small figure into his arms, tightly holding her to himself. The contact unleashed her emotions. She clutched at him, leaning into him and let tears flow.

"I wasn't even there to... when he..." her soppy voice was muffled by his chest and she gripped his body tighter.

Alistair stood silently, firmly, allowing her as much time as she needed. He could feel her pain. His memories threatened to spring up, but he stamped them down, thinking only about Bronwyn. He realized he had been wanting to hold her. Just not under this kind of circumstance.

Simane and Manon reached them. The female Warden fetched their horses, which were grazing a few yards away. Simane surveyed the pair with a questioning look, her brow furrowed. Alistair gave a slight shake of his head, then rested his chin on top of Bronwyn's head while she quieted down. His eyes landed on Manon and put all force into it, silently vowing to kill him.

The Mage inclined his head, receiving it and grinned. "Well, I do supposed this is a good resting ground."

Simane tethered the horses. "He has a point. It's been a long while since breakfast. We can afford the respite." She commented, referring to Bronwyn.

Alistair said nothing still. His shirt was wet underneath his chainmail, but if it meant he could embrace Bronwyn, he would gladly take it. He caught Simane's eyes, inaudibly speaking to her. She understood, and led Manon away from them, setting up camp down the hill. The young King and Warden knew the Mage was involved somehow. He was right not to trust him.

Bronwyn had stopped crying, and took a deep breath. She still trembled, though Alistair did his best to end it. She turned her eyes up to gaze at his, her hands not moving. "Why haven't you said anything?"

He casually wiped her cheek with his thumb. "You needed to let it out. I can wait for you to tell me what is wrong."

Nodding, she pulled away and wiped at her eyes. He had comforted her, holding her until she felt better. Who had done that for her in the past? Not her father, certainly not her brothers. Her handmaiden, maybe. But she had always kept her feelings to herself. No one seemed to had taken an interest in comforting her or making her feel better when she was emotionally wrought.

"Are you better?" Alistair tilted her head up by her chin with a finger, an encouraging grin spreading across his face.

She nodded again, trying to smile. He gave her shoulder a squeeze and turned around to return to the others. Bronwyn stared after him, watching him walk. He hadn't asked her further questions about what just occurred, only saying that he could wait until she told him. She understood that he was letting her know that he was there for her. She smiled and followed his footsteps to the camp.

Approaching the others, Bronwyn heard a commotion, several harsh words were yelled. Bronwyn rushed over. Dust had been kicked up, and Bronwyn saw two bodies on the ground. Alistair's broad shoulders were atop Manon's, his fist held in the air, hovering and ready to strike. "You're lying!" Alistair spat. "I've had enough of you and your deceptive ways!"

Manon didn't flinch, but he knew Alistair would unleash at any moment. "I did not say or do anything. I merely... watched."

"As she ran her horse through the wood obviously distraught? Bolacs, I think not. It was one extreme to the other. It was you. What did you do!?"

Simane saw Bronwyn and stopped her before she could interrupt. It was a long time coming, and Simane had sensed the tension would break at some point. Best get it out now while alone than blow up at the garrison.

"You said she heard a voice. I cannot throw my own into her head. That is impossible. Even for me."

Alistair knew the fool was lying. His experience with Mages told him that. Everything had been going smoothly until they had to escort Manon back to the Warden. And Alistair had seen Lord Baric. He wasn't young by any means, but the man was healthy and obviously so produced such in offspring. For an older man, Baric would undoubtedly live on unless there were an successful attempt on his life.

He had to hold back his fist even though he greatly wish to punch the smug look of the Mage's face. He had picked Bronwyn for the sole reason that she was still unsure, only just thrust into Warden life. That or he had a special interest in her for magical purposes. Neither Alistair was prepared to let happen.

Instead of acting on desires, Alistair let out a loud frustrated growl and shoved himself up. He threw his chain-mail off, the metal clinking together as it hit the ground, and stomped off. Bronwyn looked over at Manon and then to Simane. "What was that all about?"

Simane had a feeling of what it was about, but she shook her head and unpacked a bag of berries. "Best to let him walk it off. It takes a lot for him to blow up, his patience is outstanding. He'll come back when he's ready."

Manon got to his knees and dusted his robes. He looked unaffected by the encounter.

"And you stay right there. Until he comes back, you're not moving." Simane stated firmly, pointing to the ground where Manon sat. The Mage inclined his head and closed his eyes, giving her no trouble.

Taking a handful of berries, Bronwyn walked around to stretch her legs from sitting in the saddle. She looked out in the direction that Alistair had stalked off towards. She wanted to go after him, but knew she'd only get lost. Without him there, Bronwyn felt oddly exposed. A sensation she hardly ever felt. It was almost as if with Alistair's presence was a peace and comfort that she craved more only when he was absent.

Not long after they had finished munching on berries, Alistair appeared. He seemed calm, as if the incident hadn't happened. He brushed past Bronwyn and Simane to his horse, casually patting him and tightened the cinch on the saddle.

"We've got to get moving. If we hurry, we can arrive back by nightfall."

By late afternoon, Bronwyn started to recognize landmarks that were close to the garrison. Her spirits started to lift and she smiled. She had only been living there for a week, and already she considered it home. Especially when she got to talk to Alistair and other Wardens who she's become acquainted.

The sun had already hid behind the horizon when they reached the main entrance. Alistair had not wanted Manon to know about the tunnel. He had a suspicion that the old quack could betray them if given the chance. The wooden gates opened as sentries confirmed their identities.

The guards stationed at the guard towers that sat by the gates escorted Manon to Duncan. Alistair gave him a slight push in the back, similar to an executioner pushing a criminal to the noose. The Mage didn't look back but straightened as he led his grey horse onward following the guards.

Simane yawned harshly. "I don't know about you two but I'm going to my room, taking a bath, and going to sleep." She laughed and waved to them and headed towards a clump of buildings.

"I can take your horse for you if you want to get to bed." Alistair offered. He gathered the reins of his and Simane's.

"I'll walk with you." Bronwyn replied, following him down the path.

The moon was bright and the lanterns that lined walkways and such were almost not needed. She walked silently beside the man who was different from men she had known. He had a gentleness about him, and that was coupled with a patience only known to a King. It gave him understanding. No wonder she felt peace when in his presence. At the same time, he had a fierceness, akin to wild animals, when threatened and had a strong sense of duty and protectiveness. His tall and broad build made her think of a bear.

"It was Manon. He used magic on me. I'm sure of it." Bronwyn quietly said to him. She twisted the leather reins in her hands.

Alistair replied with a low murmur. "I had a feeling. You were fine up until he was traveling with us. You're a strong woman." He turned to look at her.

"Pah. I don't feel like it." Bronwyn waited for him to open the gate to the stable yard. "I cried like a small child..." She was embarrassed to have cried on him the way she did. Somehow she knew that the voice wasn't real and the information that was passed onto her was false. But it seemed real at that moment in the woods. Alistair had made her feel better. He hadn't said a word in judgment towards her for her reactions. Indeed, the patience and understanding of a King.

Alistair tied the horses to a fence railing and started to uncinch them. "No. Don't feel weak. Believe it or not, everyone at some point breaks down. Sometimes worse than you had."

The memories again threatened to rise into his mind's eye, the scenes of death. He all too well remembered his frail emotions within the weeks and months after the two women in his life had passed. He forced them down again and swallowed.

He must get a tight hold on them soon.

Together, the two of them worked in silence, turning out the horses and returning their equipment to the barn. Bronwyn took in his silent strength. She caught glimpses of his eyes in the harsh light, seeing his mind deep in thought. His own world, perhaps full of pain. She had wondered about that before, but his mannerisms kept her from asking.

Bronwyn tried to stifle her yawn, but failed. Thinking of her bed made her more tired than she realized. Alistair walked with her until he quietly bid her a good night before splitting off in another direction towards his building. At once she felt an odd feeling as she watched him go, a sense of loss. In her room she sluggishly washed up and combed out her hair before crawling in her bed. She left the window open, the shutters tied to the wall to let the breeze and moonlight stream in.

The view through the window was one of the walls where sentries could be stationed. She remembered the time she went up there the night she couldn't sleep. Her mind wanted to go up there again, to look out into a beautiful night with the stars twinkling, keeping watch over the land, but her body was too achy. Just as her eyes grew heavier, she caught a glimpse of a man on the wall.

He leaned on the side, obviously not a guard, as there was no armor, no weapons. She watched him take in the night, so deep in thought. A peace came over her. A feeling she now knew well. Sleep fought her body to close her burning eyes. Bronwyn thought she saw the figure turn around to lean his backside against the edge and facing her building, but she fell asleep before she could be sure.


End file.
